After the Deaths
by Little Rachael
Summary: Here are the untold reflections of the friends, family, loved ones, and acquaintances of the departed. If only they knew that they are fighting for Valhalla!
1. Arngrim

"Brother..." Roland whispered. "I can't believe you're gone. What am I going to do now? My body's too week...how will I support myself? I know I was always a millstone around your neck. Is it because of me that you...you did what you did?" _Suicide. He committed suicide. Go ahead and say it, Roland._ Why? They say he went mad. But Arngrim...he wouldn't... 

He looked at the great number of paintings in the corner. He remembered Arngrim's words. _If you can't sell it, what's the point?_

"Should I...should I try selling my paintings?" he wondered aloud. It was strange, having nobody to talk to.

_ Nobody's going to buy your paintings._

He shook the voice out of his head. No. He had to try. When Arngrim was alive, he couldn't do anything for himself...that had to change. He couldn't live the rest of his life like this. That is...

_What little life you have left._

"Stop it!" he cried out. "Leave me alone! You know nothing about me!" But that was untrue. The voice knew everything about him, because it was him. It was Roland. Roland, the lame brother of Arngrim the mercenary. He'd developed a habit of splitting his mind into two people. They usually held opposite viewpoints. If anyone heard him talking to himself, they would indeed think he was mad. But the only person who was ever around had been Arngrim, or one of his clients...and now that Arngrim was gone, there would be nobody around to hear him.

He stood up slowly and limped over to the table. That silly little headless statue was still there. A symbol of all the people Arngrim had killed. He'd never told Roland exactly why there was no head, but Roland had a feeling Arngrim had done it himself.

_Arngrim was always doing violent things. He had no morals._

"That's not true!" Roland protested. "He fought so he could support me!" 

_He fought because he enjoyed it. He was driven mad by bloodlust. That's what made him kill the princess, the councillor, and 30 men of the guard!_

"STOP!" he screamed. He held his hands up to his ears, knowing it was no good. "I don't want to hear any more! My brother was a good man!"

There was a knock on the door.

Roland began to tremble. Had someone heard him? Was somebody coming to kill him? Maybe it was just as well. He had no reason left to live. He knew dying would not have made his brother happy...but now...Arngrim was gone.

_Join him, Roland. Join him in Nifleheim._

Trying to ignore the voice in his head, Roland made his way over to the door and opened it.

Standing outside was a young man, younger than Roland himself, with beautiful golden hair and blue eyes.

"You..." Roland began.

The man nodded. "It's me, Lawfer. Arngrim...he wanted me to take care of you."

Roland's face flushed. "I don't need anyone to take care of me." He knew his words were not convincing. Tired...he was so tired...

_Sleep. Go to sleep forever. No need to think or do anything. Just...go...to...sleep..._

He took a step backward, almost unsure if he was going to be able to stay awake. Then he shook off the feeling and looked back up at Lawfer.

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	2. Jelanda

"My daughter," sobbed the king. "Killed by a madman, my strongest fighter! Could it have been revenge? It must have been. Oh, that he had struck me down in her stead!"

He did not weep for Lombert, nor for the 30 knights that had been murdered. When they had presented him with her body...with his child's body, with nary a scratch...

The images flew through his head again. Jelanda's birth. Her mother's death, shortly after. Jelanda as a child...eating, throwing a tantrum (there had been no shortage of those), picking flowers in the garden, sleeping in her bed, asking her father why he never had time for her. Jelanda as a teenager...learning magic spells, reading, arguing with Lombert. And then, the events of the past few days unfolded before him like the carpet that stretched from the door to his throne. The presentation of the statue, Arngrim knocking the head off the statue, Arngrim walking out, Jelanda yelling at the guards to capture him as her feeble father trembled in his seat, too terrified to speak.

_Yes...I was so scared on that day. I was scared that man was going to do me in. The way he laughed...a most fearsome laugh. But I was always a coward. Jelanda inherited her mother's stubbornness and courage. In the end, I was helpless to save her...The fear I felt when I thought I was going to die was nothing compared to the fear that consumed me when they said my daughter had been kidnapped._

He laughed ruefully, startling the servants in the room. That fear, that feeling of not knowing what would become of his daughter, was almost worst than the feeling of shock and sorrow upon finding out she was dead, and the overwhelming anger upon learning that she had been murdered by somebody he thought worked for him.

_It's my fault. I should have known. I should have done more to protect her. I always left her with Lombert, thinking he could do everything better than I could. But nobody can replace the love and attention of a parent. I see that now. But, oh! what a terrible price to pay!_

He buried his face in his hands and began to weep anew. "Jelanda," he wailed, "Can you ever forgive your foolish father? You were only 14. Just a child. You were smart, you seemed to grow up so quickly...but you were still just a young girl. How could I have been such a fool?"

The servants in the room began to weep with him. Jelanda had been spoiled--could one expect any less from the daughter of a king?--but she was a child. The death of a child is always more tragic than any other death. They thought of their own children, their daughters and sons, and how they couldn't bear it if they were to lose any of them.

The king declared 40 days of mourning for his beloved daughter. During that period of time, no one was to fight unless absolutely necessary, and the church bells were required to be rung every hour on the hour. The outpour of grief and sympathy was almost overwhelming. People brought flowers to the castle, and the churches were nearly overflowing with well-wishers begging the gods to grant her peace. None of them could have imagined that she was fighting for the well-being of all, god and human alike, as a trainee to become an Einherjar, a warrior of Valhalla.

_I must live on, _the king decided. _I will become a better king, one that these good people deserve. A king that Jelanda would have been proud of. A king who will not cower before an arrogant mercenary. _Oddly enough, the thought of Arngrim brought him no feelings of fury or hatred this time. It was almost as if he had been forgiven. How was this possible? This was the man who had killed his daughter.

He didn't know it, but the gods were granting him the ability to forgive the man who killed Jelanda. For Arngrim was also training to become an Einherjar, which is the greatest honor of all.

The elderly king was finally at peace. Now, he must accomplish the same for his kingdom.


	3. Lawfer

Celia knew without asking that the news was bad. She noted that Kashell's shoulders were slumped and his usually bright and friendly face was pale and grim.

"Is he...?"

Kashell nodded, confirming what the two of them had been dreading all night. "They executed him almost on sight. His last request was that they release Roland, who's been thrown out of the city. And of course, the captain of the guard is devastated over the loss of his son..." He stopped, noticing his voice was shaking. He held his hands up to his face, hoping Celia wouldn't notice the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Kashell..." Knowing he was a lot softer underneath that arrogant mask he normally wore, she gently took him into her arms so he could cry quietly into her shoulder. Why did men have to pretend to be so tough all the time?

"Barely more than a kid..." Kashell whispered. "He was so _young_. And he didn't have to die like that."

"I know," she said, hugging him tight. First Bartos and Rolf, then Arngrim...How many more of their friends would they lose? Celia had often wondered whether being an adventerer was really worth it. She had never shared those thoughts with her friends, however. Besides, there were so many fun times they'd had together.

Kashell lifted his head and looked up at the sky. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet, but he appeared to have stopped crying. "You know...one good thing did come from Lawfer's d-d..."

"What's that?" Celia asked quickly.

"Well, the King finally went to check out the prisons. He saw how the convicts were being treated and, needless to say, he was quite disgusted. Because, you know, he trusted the knight captain, who in turn trusted his son."

"And what happened then?"

"I wasn't there," Kashell admitted. "But the townspeople were talking. They've seen the condittions they keep the prisoners in. You know, most of them were arrested for stealing to feed their starving families, or maybe saying something negative about one of the nobles."

Celia nodded. "Corruption is everywhere these days."

"King Geraldo used to not care about the lower class, you know," he continued. "It's as if his daughter's death somehow...I don't know, made him more gracious. He's become little less than an altruist!" He looked back at Celia, a new light in his eyes. "Don't you think that's strange...and somehow, good?"

"Yeah," Celia answered softly. "I do."

"The person in charge of the prison was always saying the prisoners died of 'natural causes.' I think it's more like what 'naturally' happens when you stop feeding someone. Those prisons were a living hell..."

Celia smiled a little bit. "You sound almost as if you've been in one, Kashell!"

Kashell grinned broadly. "Maybe I have! Maybe I'll tell you all about it one day!"

It hurt a little, to see him trying so hard. But she knew that the two of them would be just fine.

"Kashell..." she said, not sure how to continue.

"Yeah?"

"Do you get the feeling that...somehow, from somewhere...Lawfer is watching us?"

Kashell's smile broke and he looked at the ground again. "Yeah...I feel that way, too. That's why this has been so damn hard for me! I know he's gone, and yet...It's like he's still here!"

Meanwhile, Lawfer was standing before the goddess who would decide his fate, the Battle-maiden, Lady Valkyrie.

"If you had not worried so much about your friends, you would not be here," she told him. "You did not take care of yourself, and you paid for it."

Lawfer looked down sadly. "And in the end, I didn't even help him, did I? He's right back where he started from."

"That's not true. He is free now, is he not? And your sacrifice has led to great changes being made in your home country. You have earned the right to become an Einherjar."

Lawfer couldn't have looked more shocked. "Me? But I'm just a normal knight. I don't have any special skills or strengths."

Valkyrie looked into his eyes and asked, "Would you give up your life for the gods?"

Lawfer suddenly felt very small, as if all the secret thoughts he kept hidden away in his soul had leaked out into the open. "Of course I would! I mean...If that would help...and if I weren't already dead..."

Valkyrie nodded slightly. "I will grant you a new life, if you dedicate it to fighting for the gods."

Lawfer looked at Valkyrie. Her eyes were so cold and humorless...but not without compassion. He thought of Arngrim, of Kashell and Celia, and knew he couldn't say no.

"I will," he said.

"Good," Valkyrie answered. "I'm sure my master will be pleased."

"It shouldn't be long before we hear from Aelia," Celia reminded Kashell. "We have to stay alive until then." _For now_, she thought, _all we can do is wait. After all, we have a death to avenge._


	4. Belenus

Asaka got to her feet. The sight of Belenus lying next to her on the floor had startled her. "Lord...Lord Belenus? What's going on?" She knelt down next to him, noticing for the first time how cold and lifeless his body was.

_No._

She began to shake him. "Lord Belenus! Please, don't do this to me! Don't leave me all alone! You can't...You can't!" Her body then crumped, and she sobbed into Belenus' chest. There was no heartbeat. She took his hand in hers. It felt like ice.

"I loved you," she whispered. "How cruel the gods are, to take you from me like this. Was this what you meant by 'destiny'? Was that why you were snatched from me like that flower was snatched from the ground?" She took his body in her arms and rocked him, wishing she could have held him like this just once.

"You gave your life...to save me, didn't you?" There was no other explanation. She'd known, when she saw how she was lying next to his body, and the way she felt, as though she'd just awoken from a dreamless sleep. She'd shoved it to the back of her mind, hoping against hope that her lord was still alive. That's right...It was all coming back to her now. She'd been attacked by some unknown assailant--some supernatural being, perhaps?--and she had thought it was all over for her...

So this was how it had ended. "If only you had let me die, instead of leaving me to live on without you!"

The next day, the poor woman went to the slave auctions again. _I must live on, for Lord Belenus, _she thought. _His sacrifice will not have been in vain._ This time, there was one slave there, a frightened child of about seven or eight years of age.

Asaka knelt down before the child. "Hello, little one," she said gently. "What's your name?"

"Kumi," she answered, surprised to see one of her people in such a distant land.

Asaka stood up. "I'll take her," she told the slaver. "Name your price."

After all had been said and done, Kumi turned to Asaka and asked, "My lady, there is not much I can do. Begging your pardon, why did you choose me?"

Asaka looked at her, her eyes reflecting warmth for the first time in the past two days. "It was destiny," she answered simply, and the two of them walked home.

It felt strange, coming home to such an empty house. Belenus' body had been buried in the church cemetery, beneath a great headstone extolling his years of service. The priest and knight captain had both given obsequious speeches about how he strove to make Lassen a better place, and bring peace to the land, and how he had never once shirked his holy duty to fight for freedom and justice of men everywhere.

_How sickening_, Asaka felt. _They don't mean a word of it. To them, Lord Belenus was just another commodity, someone easily replaced._

But the house was no longer empty, she reminded herself. Kumi was there. She was such an adorable child, and so sweet. It was nice to have somebody with whom she could speak her native tongue. It had been so long since she had spoken it, that at first it was difficult. Soon, however, her body began to remember, and she spoke it without thinking.

Of course, she still had a role to play. Now that Belenus was gone, she had to receive several visitors each day, either earnest well-wishers or greedy gold-diggers who thought they could trick her out of his considerable estate. Asaka herself had no desire for wealth or prestige, but she couldn't bear to let go of anything that reminded her of him.

"Lady Asaka?"

Asaka looked down at the child and smiled. "Yes, Kumi. What is it?" She loved hearing her voice. It was so sunny and bright; it helped to alleviate some of her grief.

Kumi bowed deeply. "I have finished sweeping the entry."

Of course, it would be inhuman to make a little girl do all the chores, so Asaka did most of it. She didn't mind; it was similar to how she worked when Maria was around. Sometimes Belenus had helped out when his father was away. It had been fun, the three of them working together…

"Lady Asaka?" Kumi inquired, a hint of concern in her voice. "Are you all right?"

Asaka realized she had tears streaming down her cheeks again. "Oh…Oh, my. I'm sorry, Kumi. I…I just remembered, I have to bring in the laundry." She ran off towards the bedroom, adding, "You can go ahead and start supper. I'll be right back."

Kumi knew something was wrong, but she dared not ask. Lady Asaka had seemed so sad ever since the day she bought her. And one day, she had left the house and been gone for hours. When she came home, her eyes had been red, as though she'd been crying. Was she grieving? Had someone she loved died? Was that why a pretty lady like her was living alone?

Kumi remembered losing her parents in the war with the merfolk in Hai-lan. Not a day when by when she didn't miss them and wish they could all be together again. Since then, she had been shuffled all around the hemisphere, none of her masters wishing to keep her, selling her once an older, more beautiful, and more useful woman came along.

But Asaka was different. She treated Kumi like a human being, like someone she cared about. And if she was indeed a Yamato woman, then she may have been a slave once herself.

_I owe my life to Lady Asaka_, Kumi thought that night as she prayed. _Please…Please, let Lady Asaka find happiness._


	5. Llewelyn

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I decided to start working on this again. For various reasons, I had stopped working on it, but now I have come to the conclusion that none of those things matter. It's been so long since I played through VP1, I'm not even sure I have all the stories right. If there's something I have gotten wrong, you can let me know. I can take it.

--

She did not wish to marry again. Even though she had accepted that Llewelyn was gone, she no longer felt the need to be with anyone. She felt that, after experiencing the intense pain of losing the man she loved, she could not handle getting married.

Her mother, however, did not see things her way.

"You _must _get married," she told her. "It isn't right for a young lady such as yourself to be an old maid."

"I'm _not _an old maid, Mother," said Millia. "I am 17 years old. I just need some time."

"There is no time," her mother insisted. "You are of a marriageable age. Men like women to be young so they can bear many children. If you can marry a rich man, you will not have to work a day in your life!"

"I don't mind working." Millia tired of these conversations. She had been prepared to work so she and Llewelyn could support themselves and their children. She had never planned on living a life of luxury.

"Mother," she continued slowly, "I know you only want the best for me." That was a lie. Her mother may be concerned about her, but she also desired a better life for herself. She knew the only way she could move up the social ladder was through marriage. "But I really think this _is _the best for me. I've come to accept Llewelyn's death. At the same time, however, I think having a man in my life would only complicate things. I am ready for anything else, Mother…but not that."

"Millia…" Her mother sighed. "Why can't you trust me? A daughter should obey her mother. If only you hadn't met that boy, things would have been different!"

Millia's eyes narrowed, but she forced herself to remain calm. "Mother, you don't know anything—"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "Llewelyn was a nice boy. I…I wanted you to forget him when he went to war because I knew he would never come back." Her face fell. "I once had a lover like you did."

Millia's eyes widened.

"He was just like Llewelyn," she continued. "He was handsome, young…and naïve. We loved each other. We even promised we would get married after the war. Does that sound familiar to you, Millia?"

Millia blushed slightly. "Yes," she whispered.

"And the same thing happened as with Llewelyn," she continued. "He died in battle, without firing even a single shot. I was devastated." Her voice shook. "I didn't want you to have to experience that."

_Oh, Mother…_Millia felt her eyes brim with tears. "But then…can't you understand my desire not to get married to another man?"

Her mother nodded. "I can. But Millia, you must understand…that is not the way the world works. Neither men nor women marry for love. We marry in order to survive and have children."

Millia hung her head. "Then…there's no chance for me?"

"I don't know, Millia. I…I will try to find a suitable groom for you. That is all I can promise you."

The next day, Millia was on her way to the marketplace to pick up some bread, and she decided to stop by the forest. She often felt Llewelyn's presence there, as if he really were watching over her. She wondered how he would feel about her getting married.

"Hi, Llewelyn," she said, looking up at the endless sea of trees. "My relationship with my mother is getting better." She closed her eyes and listened to the leaves rustle in reply. "I think…I think I am going to get married soon."

She nervously awaited an angry response, but the breeze remained gentle, and she heaved a sigh of relief. She knew it was ridiculous to assume that Llewelyn was even listening, wherever he was. If he had died in battle, he may have been chosen as an einherjar. If that were the case, surely there was no time for him to listen to the thoughts of the woman who loved him during his mortal life.

But coming here comforted Millia, and she felt much better feeling as if she had Llewelyn's approval. He had been such a kind person. He had gone so far as to agree with his mother when she told her to forget him—not because he didn't love her, but because he was concerned for her well-being in the case of his death.

Now that she thought about it, she realized that both she and Llewelyn knew there was very little chance of him coming back alive. He was clumsy, inexperienced, and far too young to be going to war. Of course, the army always did want the young ones, for the older men had children. Mothers, sisters, and lovers, however, knew better. They knew the boys leaving them better than anyone else. The recruiters did not know them as individuals.

Millia turned to leave the forest and headed in the direction of the marketplace. Her mother would arrange a marriage for her, but it would be _her _decision in the end. She knew her mother would not force her into anything.

_Llewelyn, help me to make the right decision_, she prayed as she began to walk down the city's main street.


End file.
